


Demonic Blood Dilution Rates And Their Features

by marquise_angelica



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Children, Cute Kids, Demons, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Next Generation, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquise_angelica/pseuds/marquise_angelica
Summary: The Sparda twins were gone for so long that Nero had new twins.
Relationships: Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Demonic Blood Dilution Rates And Their Features

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Степени разбавления демонической крови и их особенности](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/759780) by Маркиза Анжелика. 



> I gift that to https://twitter.com/KatDavies9/status/1320481499070799872  
> Original is written in Russian. Translation was made by myself.

The empty hellish sky occupied all of Vergil's attention. He looked forward and up. He walked, trying not to think about anything, and absorbed the slightest vibrations of the environment. In the old days, days without Yamato, it saved his life. Now, it allowed him to freely experience the all-encompassing sense of completion.

Mundus is gone.

The air trembled barely, hearing only unhurried steps. The demons went into hiding, having lost many of their most self-confident brethren. No one else dared to block the path of the sons of Sparda, and it felt... so dismal.

What will one do? An interesting question.

"And Kyrie cooks well...", suddenly he heard Dante's voice.

Kyrie? An echo of the name — Nero's cry — resurfaced in memory from a hazy, agonizing time of impotence. It was exactly before the returning of Yamato. Nero. Kyrie. Fortuna. Link by link, chain of thought re-filled his head, and Vergil shook his hair in displeasure, then tucked in a couple of thin strands that fell on his forehead.

"What?", his voice was slightly hoarse because he hadn't spoken for a long time. "Kyrie?"  
"She's Nero's girlfriend. Maybe already his wife and mother of his children. We've been here for a long time now, don't you think so, hah? And it gets pretty boring. The only entertainment left is you and Yamato, but you are not at home more and more often," and Dante tapped his temple with his finger, hinting at Vergil's craving for meditation.  
“If you want to go home, I don’t keep you here,” Vergil retorted as usual. "I didn't call you with me."  
"If you stay, then I stay too," Dante answered stubbornly, as usual, too.

It's amazing how long they've been in hell if Dante's presence, as well as his systematic refusals, have become "usual." It turns out, indeed, a lot. However, after eternity without Yamato, eternity both with her and with Dante felt almost like a reward. But sometimes brother threw such a thing into his head that Vergil wanted to nail him to the stones with his own sword once again and leave, only to drive out another persistent thought.

Nero. He may already have children of his own. And he still doesn’t know that he is doomed to leave them alone, like all his ancestors. Should Vergil interfere? Yes, Mundus is defeated, but who knows what will come in his place. This is fate. It will find a way to come true.

Will Nero allow himself to be helped – or will he laugh at his father and chase him away, so he shouldn't even try?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dante said suddenly.

As a twin brother, he really could know. Sometimes. Previously – for sure. And Vergil, for the first time in a while, looked directly and openly at him.

Dante loomed in a shaggy, ragged spot against the backdrop of a pale sunset hellish landscape. Someone bit off a part of his coat and ripped the rest, the shirt scaled with garlands of holes, the soles of his boots were melted. Vergil looked no better, but he preferred not to think about it: he simply didn’t consider it was important.

“That your child has grown without you completely,” Dante continued, looking at his face. “But, fortunately, he’s not as dumb as you."

Maybe it's so, but Nero doesn’t know the entire history of his family, which means that he cannot avoid repeating it.

But no one deserves a similar fate.

The thought that had been spinning in his head for quite a long time finally took shape and, with the pleasure of the empusa, bit into Vergil's mind. They must return. It's time to go back. Not for the sake of Nero – for the sake of... in order to get the book back and warn the offspring of the impending danger at the same time. This is quite enough. But nothing more.

"What are you thinking about?", Dante said again. "Am I right?.. Hey? Vergil, are you here?".  
“It's time to go,” Vergil pulled out Yamato with a gesture ahead of his thoughts and cut the space crosswise. The purple underside of reality twisted into the slit and billowed in wisps of black smoke.

Fortuna.

Vergil stepped into the portal.

He went out into the spring twilight, filled with the honey smell of flowers, seasoned with seaweed and salt. The sea was rustling nearby. Vergil turned around – and above Dante's head and over his shoulders he saw the city wall of Fortuna.

Someone was walking there, approaching the gate, casting long, faded shadows over the white stone. A tall figure, unhurried, with a wide step, and two small ones, galloping around in the long grass. The tall man's gait seemed familiar to Vergil.

Dante opened his mouth, looked at his brother, closed it and turned around too.

"Nero?" with all the power of his lungs he called, and Vergil wrinkled at the loud sound.

He looked closely. The silhouette is similar. The gait – it's hard to say: upon hearing the call, the person stopped, also looked into the distance and freezed.

"Exactly, it's him! I didn't expect you to take my advice as literally, brother. Anyway, we are on time," Dante grinned, waved his hand at his nephew and walked to him.

Vergil hesitated but still followed a couple of steps. But not for going close. Just to get a good look at the stranger’s face and be sure of his brother's guess... Yes, it's Nero. And with him there are two children just above his knee. They are swiftly nimble, wearing bright clothes. Their heads are white, like liquid silver.

So, Dante didn't lie?

Despite his will, Vergil continued to walk towards them and came to his senses only when he was about five steps from his son. The children hid behind their father and now looked out with curiosity from behind his legs, clearly feeling themselves under an irresistible protection. A boy and a girl. Blue-eyed, thin as reeds reaching for the sun. Almost the same height, with the same faces. Twins?

Vergil looked at them in response. He looked – and could not understand what he felt about that. In mind – nothing. But there was something suspiciously glowing in his heart, and it was barely perceptible. He was too accustomed to crushing everything that is born there.

"You two. Do you even know how long you were out?", finally, Nero broke the silence, and Vergil distracted himself from the children to him. Nero got older. A little more wrinkles appeared near the eyes and lips, a little calmer gaze he gained... but with every moment it flared up brighter and brighter, just about threatening to flash yellow. “I thought I’d never see you again,” Nero closed his eyes and clenched his fists: "If not for the children there, I would have fought you both. Here and now".  
“No, because you missed us,” Dante said. "Especially me".  
"Do you want to check how much my shoe missed you, Dante?", Nero's voice became harder, sharper. Now and in general, since the last meeting. He was no longer tempted to break into hysterics at any second.  
"Always with pleasure, kid!", Dante was radiant with happiness. It seems that he was the one who missed Nero.  
"One more word...".

Vergil lost interest in the flaring up skirmish and stared back at the children. Taken by surprise: they were obviously studying him, too, while he was distracted, – they gasped and simultaneously hid back behind their father.

"Oh, are these yours? Real, I mean, yours and Kyrie?", Dante also turned his gaze to the children.  
"No, toy ones", snapped Nero and dropped his hands, as if covering the children with them.  
"We are not toy ones!", the boy retorted ardently, looking out, and immediately hid back.

The girl appeared from behind Nero's leg silently, more slowly, but with more attention, even sharpness in her eyes. It was too strange for a height a little higher than her father's knee and therefore attracted the attention of Vergil.

"Papa, who are them?" she asked loudly, squeezing Nero's pants with her thin fingers.

Vergil stifled the urge to squat with difficulty. But Dante did just that a second later, put his hands on his hips and smiled at the girl, although it was more like a grin with teeth.

"My name is Dante! What is yours?".  
"Abigail. But papa says that I am a joy. But you are not papa! Don't do that!", she demanded, knitting her eyebrows.  
"Okay, Abigail. Is this your brother?".  
"Yes! Is this yours?", she asked immediately.

Dante turned his head to Vergil and looked up at him with a crooked grin.

"Yeah. Maybe we can exchange? I get tired sometimes, even I have no strength for enduring him. I bet you feel that too?".

Vergil frowned and prodded Dante with Yamato's sheath in the lower back.

“With young children, you really seem like you belong to,” he said. "But that can wait. Nero, we need to talk. Will you allow me to enter your house with you?".

Nero took a deep breath and was silent for a few moments. It was clear from his eyes that he was thinking tensely, from his lips that he wanted to say something, but thoughts quickly replaced each other, never turning into words. Nevertheless, for some reason, the anger left his face.

“I still owe you your book,” he finally answered. "I'll get it back... And you know, I'm flattered that this time you decided to ask for permission. Okay, let's go. It’s time for me and the kids to go home."

He turned around, tried to take a step – and, with a gasp, bent down.

"Tom, what are you doing? Are you afraid?".  
"No, I am not!", the boy immediately unhooked from his leg and ran around all four of them, loudly rustling the grass. "I am not afra-a-a-aid!".

Dante stood up and stared into space, lips moving soundlessly.

“I'll bet on twelve,” he said quietly and glanced at Nero.  
"Before the twentieth, he does not fizzle out", he objected. "I was the same".

Hearing this, Vergil looked at Nero with interest.

Little by little it dawned on him that all those present, without exception, were connected to him by the same blood. And if Vergil had been accustomed to Dante for a long time and therefore his twin was unbearable, then his son and his children aroused an unabated thirst for knowledge. Vergil longed to be with them. It was so unusual. It didn't sound like affection, but seems to sound like interest.

Who are they, really? Do they look like him? Are they worthy to be his... heirs?

Nero met his gaze, but didn’t last long: almost immediately he turned away.

Vergil lowered his eyes and found again that Abigail was watching him. Not so much him exactly but... The ribbon on Yamato's scabbard swayed from the light wind. Tsuba gleamed sharply.

But the girl didn’t dare to speak. Probably she was scared.

"How old are you, Abigail?", asked Vergil, momentarily drawing the attention of Nero and Dante.

The girl hesitated. She looked at her hands, flexed her fingers one at a time and showed him a tiny splayed hand.

"Five!", she added a word for a gesture. "And you? Probably you are even older than papa, huh?".  
“Yes,” he agreed shortly, so as not to dive into the calculations.

For the first time he realized that he didn’t know exactly how old he was... and, moreover, he wasn’t eager to find out: after all, then all the ugly fragments of his life path will acquire their true dimensions.

"How many-y-y-y," she held out and looked out another half inch. "How do you know my papa?".

Vergil hesitated to answer, and Abigail occupied herself by continuing:

"I think he helped you, he helps everyone! Yes, papa?".

Then, Tom ran up to Nero and hugged his leg again. The boy was breathing noisily, now and then squinting at the strangers with a sparkling glance, but hesitating to make direct eye contact.

"I told you, twenty... Well, that's enough, let's go," and Nero easily raised him in his arms.

Tom sat down on the crook of his right elbow, grabbed his shoulder and stared with shy curiosity at Vergil and Dante. Now they were on the same level, maybe Tom even was a little higher, and that clearly added confidence to the child.

Abigail pinched his heel. Tom gasped and waved his leg.

"Papa, me?", she asked angrily, as soon as Nero looked down at her.  
"And you too," he sat down and raised her in his arms. "Do not pester people with conversations, they must be very tired."  
"Are they coming with us?".  
"Yes, I have a business with them."  
"Do they need your help?".  
"I think yes."  
"Why do they have such hair? Like we have! You said we were special!".  
"And there is. We are all special. And these people...", Nero hesitated, sighed, slowed down: "This is my father and his brother."  
"Why wouldn't you introduce like: ‘My uncle and his brother!’”, Dante was indignant. "You and I have known each other longer!".

Abigail put both hands on her father and peered curiously at Dante.

"Wow! So are you my papa’s papa?".  
"Nah. Here he is", and Dante nodded to Vergil's side.  
“You’re papa’s papa,” she clarified, and jabbed her finger at him, swaying and balancing with one hand, as if riding a horse and not on her father’s shoulder.

Vergil nodded.

"It's called 'grandpa,'" Dante prompted happily.

Abigail gave him a stern look.

"I know!", she declared with pride and resentment.

Dante chuckled, but reluctantly somehow, as if out of necessity.

“You know Nero, this is creepy. She's becoming angry exactly as your father."  
“She just doesn't like you,” objected Vergil, noticing the familiar wrinkle between the eyebrows on the smooth child’s face with imperceptible pleasure. Well, Abigail couldn’t stand his direct gaze for a long time either: every now and then she averted her eyes and began to mutter something under her breath; perhaps sing.  
“Abby loves to talk,” Nero replied without turning around. "But only with those who she likes. It seems that she, on the contrary, liked you. A strange child."  
"And Tom?", Dante asked curiously, trying in vain to catch the boy's eye.  
"He's completely different. Reminds me of myself when I was a child."

Hearing his name, Tom looked out and immediately hid again. His ears were flushed.

"I just can't leave them in the kindergarten. It runs the same every time," complained Nero, as if under his breath, but clearly, so that they could hear him: "Abby is teased, Tom stands up for her, and in the end they beat the offenders together. Demonies."  
"Sorry, kid, but it's a family feature."  
“Yes, I know,” he replied with a note of despair in his voice.  
"You look good as a caring dad, by the way. Not like some ones."  
"If papa has his own papa, does he have his own mom too?", Abigail asked suddenly.  
“She was,” Vergil replied shortly and literally physically felt how Nero tensed. His back stiffened under his thin shirt. Nero turned into hearing. But Vergil had nothing to tell him. In any case, not in front of others.  
"Does she look like my mom?", Abigail caught his attention again.  
“I don’t know your mother, Abigail."  
"But everyone in Fortuna knows my mom, as well as papa!".  
“But I don’t live in Fortuna, as you can see,” and Vergil pierced with his heavy gaze the nearest Fortuna passer-by. He was staring at the procession of gray-haired half-breeds. They had already entered the city, and the heels of Vergil's boots were tapping on the cobblestones. Just like it used to be in the past.  
"You are strange. Grandpa.” Abigail frowned again for a second. "Why don't you live in Fortuna? Why does papa live here and you don't? Where do you live?".

Nowhere, really. But he had spent enough time in hell to consider it... a kind of home.

"Don't get involved in this. You can't understand,” snapped Vergil.  
"Why?".  
"Because my home is very far from here. Further than you can imagine. Let's leave this topic."  
"Wow! Further than aunt Nico drove us? Will you take me on a visit?".  
"Your father will not allow it, and you will be useless there."

Abigail slumped and frowned. Dante nudged him in the side with his elbow.

"It's a child! Think what you say!".  
“That's why I refused her,” said Vergil calmly.  
"Vergil! You could have just lied or pretended not to hear."  
“I suppose that’s how you talked to Nero before I returned?”.

Dante frowned and jabbed his finger in the chest.

“It looks like it's still better than you would raising Nero by yourself."

For some reason, this hurt Vergil greatly. He glanced at Nero's back, at how the children trustingly held on to him, swaying slightly with each step, and gritted his teeth until a metallic taste in his mouth.

"Shut up, Dante."  
“Mom says it's a bad word,” Abigail put in, and narrowed her eyes in revenge.  
"Which one?", Vergil could not resist.

Abigail darted her gaze here and there and furrowed her eyebrows anxiously, clearly not daring to voice the “bad word” in front of her father, and even sitting in his arms, within reach for instant retribution.

"All of them, everything!", she cried out and, showing him her tongue, pointedly turned away.

Nero chuckled and squatted in front of the porch of a house. Vergil glanced around, scanning out of habit, memorizing his surroundings, and noticed the edge of the garage. Light brick, dark vertical gate. It looked familiar.

The children jumped off their father's shoulders and raced to open the front door. They coped and squeezed inside at the same time. Two pairs of heels rumbled across the floor, quickly moving away.

Vergil looked in the direction of the sound and saw Nero's back. He was right stepping over the threshold, slightly shaking his head.

It became somehow... uncomfortable. Vergil rather followed a step so that Nero wouldn’t disappear, crossing the border of the unknown – the alien human life to the elder of Sparda kin – but Dante blocked his path and said:

"Stop! Let's go without a weapon. You never know, if you distract yourself, the children will drag them, and then you will... one pierced child is enough for us."

Vergil raised an eyebrow, but Nero joined Dante:

"Yes, I agree. I know you won't give it away, so at least hide it if you want to come in."

Vergil hesitated, looking at both. The fingers clenched themselves to the limit on the saya. Yamato served him as his symbol of protection. Even falling into the abyss of revenge of Mundus with a fragment in his hand, he didn’t release it until the last moment. And recently, finishing off the former master with a blow to the center of his forehead, he squeezed the handle so desperately that the bones in his fingers ached.  
It's kind of safe here, and Mundus will never wake up again. But the fingers themselves didn’t want to unclench. They couldn't, that's all.

He is not strong enough, he cannot afford it...

Not.

Fate led him. The future was destined, and he walked towards it all his life. With and without Yamato. In search of her, after all. But the goal was achieved: he cannot get anything more powerful than the fruit of the Qliphoth, and even the lord of the underworld himself bowed to its power – and life didn’t end there.

So, maybe now it is finally possible to protect those who belong to his bloodline? Maybe he will finally have enough strength for this?

One can't know until one tries.

Vergil gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, gradually relaxed his hand, and Yamato melted into his essence. But her – and his – power is still with him. It will come at the first call, being born out of thin air right during the impact.

There is no one to fight with. Everything is different here. Fate is changing. He won't need a sword.

Just to remember that.

Vergil took a deep inhale and stepped unhindered through the threshold.

Nero closed the door behind him, and Vergil was enveloped in the warm, pleasant air of the house. A small entrance hall ended with an arch leading into a semi-dark corridor. A clock ticked on the wall. It smelled of something warm and spicy, barely perceptible, like freshly brewed tea.

The feeling that, having stepped over the threshold, he fell into another world, only increased.

His left hand ached as if it missed Yamato, but he held back the urge to summon the sword back. Vergil ran his left hand over his face, and his attention was drawn to the fuss at the far end of the corridor. Children. Tom was holding the door, literally protecting the narrow space of the opening with his chest, and Abigail darted briskly in front of him, like a pyromancer demon.

"Let me in!".  
"Say the password!".  
"Fool!', she snapped. It seems that while Vergil put his inner difficulties in order, they had time to quarrel. Fast enough. Although, not surprising. He definitely should know that.  
"Invalid password!".  
"Go away, you fool!". Abigail finally found the crack and stuck her leg into it, pushed her brother with her shoulder and almost passed near him... but the boy caught her hand and they fell to the floor together. The door flew open, and Vergil saw the decoration of the drawing-room over the heads of the children. A sofa, a couple of armchairs, floor lamps, a corner of a bookcase. And the familiar brown spine lying horizontally on the shelf.

Children squealed and fidgeted on the floor. It seems that they were not going to let each other go without a fight, clinging so badly to each other. Only the grayish soles of the sandals could be seen flickering. Keeping track of who and where was challenging, but the chances of both seemed to be equal.

Dante nudged Vergil under the arm and whispered:

"I bet on a little boy. He is a stubborn one."  
“Abigail is fearless. She will win", disagreed Vergil.  
"And if there is a draw? How do we resolve the issue?", Dante asked with a hint.

Nero quickly, decisively walked past them and lifted the children from the floor by the hands. Shook it, put them on feet. Then he bent down, as if wishing to look everyone in the eye.

"Well, how much can you? So, go to your corners, then," and Nero slightly pushed them into the living room. "Noses to the wall. Cool down a little".  
"Pa-a-apa, he started that first," Abigail whined, but obediently walked into the corner next to the bookcase.  
"And you two...", Nero turned to the brothers. His eyes glittered yellowly. “I swear you I’ll kick asses to you both if you fight at my house."  
"We did not plan, actually...".  
"I heard everything. And it's good that I managed to stop it", snapped Nero. "I wish I could place you into the corners too...".  
"So what's the problem? We ourselves will disperse! I'm going to Tom, okay?", and Dante walked into the living room to the children.

Vergil glanced at his son and shrugged.

"I will not insist", Nero returned him a somewhat confused look. “But you and Abby would keep an eye on each other for a few minutes. I will go back quickly."

Keep an eye on. Sure. Nero expects that they will not fight in children's presence. And he is probably right. Vergil strode to the corner where Abigail stood, took his book from the shelf and stood facing the wall, keeping his posture exaggeratedly primly.

Something tugged at his coat. He looked down and found that it was, of course, Abigail. She caught his eye and tugged more demandingly. Vergil raised an eyebrow.

A stubborn, direct gaze expected something else.

Vergil chuckled softly and squatted down.

“Just don’t be mad at papa,” the girl said, as if in a whisper, but all the same, too loudly. "He's not angry for long. Soon there will be dinner, everyone will be called to the table."  
“I don’t think your father would want to see me any longer than our business will last."  
"But you're his papa".  
“And that makes it all the harder,” Vergil continued.  
“It’s not true,” Abigail objected, turned around and, drawing air into her chest, suddenly shouted until ringing in his ears: “Pa-a-pa!".  
"What happened?", Nero appeared in the doorway almost instantly, as if for a second before the scream he felt that he was needed, intuitively.  
"Will grandpa stay for dinner? Please, please!".  
"He will stay", Nero sighed and turned back into the corridor: "We'll talk with him after dinner."  
"Look at this!", Abigail beamed, shining a hole in her lower jaw: her teeth were changing. "And then I'll give you a candy, I have it, I hid it after aunt Nico's birthday! Candy is only allowed after a meal, so mom says."  
"Where is the candy?”, Tom responded instantly.  
“These are mine!", Abigail bristled. "You ate yours already!".  
"I want yours too!".  
"Try to take it away!".  
"And I'll try!".  
"Hey, Vergil, does that remind you of anything?", Dante laughed.  
“No,” said Vergil dispassionately. “Even as a child, you behaved much worse."  
"No, you were worse."  
"Stay in the corner with the boy, you belong right there."  
"I hear that from the corner! Little Vergil was punished by his own child! And all because someone missed the time for upbringing!".  
“Remind me to stab you later, Dante."

Vergil, feeling that he couldn’t stand it, sat down on one knee again and put his hand on Abigail's shoulder. He had an intolerable desire to summon Yamato or even a couple of spectral swords. And only a living warmth under the palm made him inhale, exhale, inhale again, and so count the seconds until the return of self-control. If he injures this little creature, Nero will definitely drive him away.

“You should have started showing your tongues to each other, what a shame, you're adults have long been,” very opportunely Nero appeared at the door again, wiping his hands with a purple-flowered towel. "All of you, wash your hands and go to the kitchen, dinner is ready. This also applies to the two of you”.

His gaze rested on Vergil's hand on Abigail's shoulder. Vergil got up, and the girl ran to her father.

"Papa, what about grandpa? Does he feel bad?".

All the time, while Vergil stood next to her, she didn’t dare to ask him. Although before that she communicated easily. It's curious.

“I hope not,” Nero gave Vergil a warning look. "Is it all right?".  
"It is", Vergil went up to him and, at his indicating gesture, proceeded to the kitchen, ahead of Dante.

There he saw Kyrie for the first time in his life. A harmoniously built, short woman with reddish hair fussed about the kitchen, wiping the last traces of cooking from the countertops. Hearing footsteps, she turned around, and Vergil barely sighed. The look was familiar to him. Soft, open, but beneath the softness was steel, comparable to the best devil's blades. The boy, without knowing it, chose a woman with the eyes of his mother as his beloved.

What is Kyrie's character? Vergil didn’t know how to read people's inclinations in the face. But he sensed the strength and evaluated it unmistakably. Both external and, of course, internal.

If she were a demon, she would be the mistress of a decent piece of hell.

“Nero told me about you,” Kyrie blinked, wiped her hands and held out her palm to greet him. “I’m Kyrie. Nero and I grew up together. You are Vergil, his father. You may doubt, I will understand, but today I am really glad to meet you."  
“I’m not what Nero would like to call his father,” Vergil crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding touching, as if it can obligate him to something.

Kyrie lowered her hand, but didn’t step back, not even pulling away her torso.

“But you are his father. Nothing will change that. One way or another, we all live the life that is intended for us."  
“So, you consider it your obligation to help Nero?".  
“I know that he needs me,” Kyrie took a step closer. "Just like you do".

Vergil lifted his chin slightly, looking into her eyes.

She didn’t look away.

“You’re not really afraid of me."  
“I am not,” Kirie smiled slightly: more with her eyes than her lips.

So that is where this fearlessness in her children comes from.

The noise of the voices of the children and Dante flew into the kitchen ahead of them.

"Mom!", Abigail happily ran in first, turned around and stuck out her tongue to her brother. "Mom, is there a pie today?".  
"Abby, don't do that, it's an ugly gesture," Kyrie shook her head, although her eyes warmed. "Yes, but only after dinner. Sit down. Dante, Vergil, you too. The boys have already had their dinner and are off somewhere on business, so you won’t interfere with us at all."  
"Do you have more children?", Vergil turned to Nero, simultaneously wondering how many years they were not here with Dante, if the "boys" are already able to go somewhere for the night looking, and their parents don’t care at all. Until the age of eight, him and Dante were released alone in daylight only and to the nearest shop.  
"These are children from the orphanage. Three boys, they are older than my guys", explained Nero. “Kyrie and I are taking care of them. I didn't want them to feel lost and unnecessary if I may not allow it".

Vergil nodded silently. Without permission, what happened to him and Dante after eight came to mind. So, he perfectly understood the feeling which they were talking about, but he couldn’t even admit to himself the thought that Nero felt exactly the same as he himself once did in his youth. From this he began to feel a frightening emptiness and bitterness, for the first time in, it seems, a whole eternity. He strove to be better than his father in everything only to repeat and multiply his mistakes...

Fate must change.

"Wow crazy, real food!". It was Dante who flopped down on a chair and, with exaggerated, in Vergil's eyes, delight, stared at the full plate in front of him. Fibrous pieces of meat were clearly visible among the colorful slices of vegetables. Stew, or something. Eva used to cook something like that. It was... it seems not bad.  
“Sorry I can't offer you pizza,” Kyrie grinned.

Dante waved his hand.

"Come on, you better not know what we have been eating for the last couple of years! I would even eat a boot now if it doesn't stink like demons. But this looks and smells great!".

Vergil looked at his brother skeptically, but after a pause, he also sat down at the table.

Unlike Dante, he appraised the proposal much more coldly. For years he had weaned himself – and indeed had weaned – from perceiving any food as something other than a vital necessity, and now “human” food made him wary. Not a sign of poison or bitterness in the scent, so inherent in the flesh of demons or wild hellish plants. Not a trace of oily tart blood. He didn't even need to take Yamato or rip apart the demon's flesh with his claws!

It felt... not fair, or something.

"Oh! Looks like I’ve found someone who would prefer a demon stinking boot,” Dante poked him while chewing, so it came out a little indistinct. "Come on, do not look like that. It's edible. I don't even want to think about how many years you haven't seen normal food. Or we need to spoon-feed you, like children?".  
"I can do without your assistance, Dante," Vergil frowned slightly from the bad manners of his younger brother, took a fork and poked into a plate, with difficulty, but gradually remembering a long-forgotten household habit.

While he ate very carefully and slowly, hardly for the first time in many years being able to afford it, Dante had time to empty his plate, take another one and finish it at the same time as the little twins. Kyrie immediately took the dishes from them and served them a pie: an apple pie with nut sprinkles. There was a damp, cozy warmth from him, and Vergil changed his mind about refusing, as he had originally intended.

Years of asceticism are wasted, but there's nothing one can do about it. He cannot leave right now without doing what he came for. About twenty years ago he would have done just that: he thought exclusively of himself. But not today.

"What will you prefer, tea, coffee?", Kyrie asked him personally, having waited until he finished with dinner.

Vergil looked at her even more attentively than the first time. But she was not embarrassed even now. She stood in front of him, smiling a little in an inexplicable, complacent acceptance, holding a saucer with a slice of pie in her hands. A glossy soft apple skin dangled from the edge of the sharp end of the piece, and the china was sprinkled with chips that had fallen from the sides.

Too good to him. This is strange. That cannot be true.

Wasn’t he too rushed with trust?

“It doesn't matter,” he replied.  
"For children I give warm milk to the pie. From tea and, even more so, coffee, they then cannot sleep all night", as if justifying, added Kyrie. "Maybe you take it too?".  
“You’re too kind to me,” he resolutely pushed the empty plate aside and crossed his arms on his chest, thereby reflexively removing himself from attempts to approach him.

Nero cleared his throat emphatically.

“I'm not here to play a carefree family,” added Vergil, acutely aware that they are trying to trick him.

Maybe this is not so at all, but the feeling... is akin to the presentiment that all this is just a dream, and from turning into a nightmare, where all his relatives are demons under the masks of humanity, he is separated by only one word.

And he voiced it.

Silence hung over the table. Even the children, feeling the tension, stopped poking around in the pie.

“We, too,” Kyrie broke the silence and neatly put the saucer of pie on the table, slightly away from him. “No one here plays either with you or with each other. It is our life. This is how we live. Perhaps this may be alien to you. I'm sorry to have made you feel uncomfortable."  
“I don't think you should apologize here, Kyrie,” Nero exhaled loudly and narrowed his eyes. "Abby, Tom, are you finished? Go to your place."  
"Mom, I finished! I'll help you clean up the dishes!", Tom jumped up from the table and took his plate with a couple of crumbs with a satisfied face.

At the same moment Abigail jumped off her chair and ran away somewhere from the kitchen. No one but Vergil noticed this.

“No, Tom,” Nero snapped.  
“Yes, Tom, thanks,” Kyrie cut in. "Help me. Nero, I'm sure your father didn't mean to offend us. After all", her gaze, hardened and direct again, stared into Vergil's face: "it's just unusual for you to be close to Nero". And stared at Nero again: "You can talk about it."  
“I wasn't going to fight him now,” Nero muttered, but the metal was gone from his voice and the sparkle of his eyes. "I ate too much. Thanks by the way."  
"Kyrie, I have long wanted to say that you are cool", Dante clicked his tongue and pointed at her with the "pistols" from his index fingers. “You don’t even need a gun to calm the demons. Nero is in good hands."  
"I'm used to it. Dealing with children is probably much easier than dealing with demons,” Kyrie smiled embarrassedly. “But I like helping everyone live in peace."

She turned away, put the dirty dishes in the sink, rattled a little in the cupboards – and a cup of warm milk appeared in front of Vergil. In front of Nero – too.

"You are welcome. Dante, can you help me? I was going to hang out clean linen in the evening, but didn’t have time."  
"Got it!", Dante got up from the table, casually slapped Vergil on the shoulder and went to the exit from the kitchen: "Of course, I will help. For such a treat – anything you want. What to take and where to go?".  
"Follow me, I'll show you", Kyrie escorted him to the exit. Tom trotted after her.

Nero sighed, cleared his throat, and Vergil turned his head back to him.

“Looks like today is your day,” Nero tried his best to speak neutral, but it didn't work out particularly well. "You didn't want to play a family – and now everyone has stopped embarrassing you. Now tell me why you came."  
“All I need is to warn you.” Vergil put his hands on the table and clasped them together. Even the thought of possible danger caused him an irresistible urge to call Yamato back to his left hand, where she belonged. "The kin of Sparda is unhappy. Fathers leave their children too early in obedience to fate. Your kids don't have to go through this. Now that you know, you may be able to resist it."

Nero raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding what this was about.

"It doesn't sound like a quote. But I still don't understand you."  
“Or you don’t want to understand,” objected Vergil.

Nero frowned, gurgled angrily with milk, and put the cup back on the saucer.

"Call it what you want. Did I hear correctly that the excuse for growing up as an orphan was fate?".  
"Now we are not talking about me. This applies to all men in the Sparda kin. You are in danger even if you don't know it yet."  
"What...", Nero squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need an excuse. Seriously. It's too late for them, don't you think so? We are both adults, not obligated of anything to each other."  
“I showed you the danger. The rest is up to you. Remember this, Nero", Vergil got up from the table and looked at Nero without a smile, hoping that another descendant of Sparda would still take his words seriously, without unnecessary emotions.

Behind his back and slightly to the right of Vergil, small steps quickly approaching were heard. He turned around. Abigail ran into the kitchen. Behind her was Kyrie, who apparently tried to stop her. The girl jumped up to him and handed him something. Small, rectangular, shiny wrapped.

Vergil prudently moved back a little.

"Here, take it!", Abigail demanded, handing him her burden. "It's a candy. For you. I promised."

Oh, right. A candy.

"Keep it."  
"I promised!", Abigail repeated angrily. "It's a chocolate! Please take it!".

Kyrie touched her daughter on the shoulder.

"Don't be annoying. Maybe your grandfather just doesn't like sweets."

Vergil turned to Nero in confusion. A chocolate – sounded tempting. But at the same time, he physically felt his son's gaze boring his back. Nero looks forward to seeing him leave. Vergil caught his gaze, eye to eye, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Let it be so.

“Abby, Vergil is already leaving,” Nero voiced for his daughter. "He has to go."  
"But uncle Dante is gone too!", Abigail scowled and rubbed her eyes with her empty fist. "Papa! That's not fair! Everyone has a grandpa, but I do not!".  
"Dante left?", Nero asked. He seemed bewildered.  
“Yes,” Kyrie nodded. "He said that he remembered that he needed to immediately find out what was there with his office, jumped on a motorcycle and left."

Nero grinned oddly, as if sadly, and shook his head.

"Did he even help you?".  
"A little. He pulled the laundry basket out into the street. I'll go and hang everything."  
"Mom! Ah, that's not fair!", Abigail repeated and sniffed.

Nero stared at her with a completely indescribable expression on his face.

“Abby, are you serious?".

She sniffed angrily as she looked at him from under her brows.

"You see him for the first time. What if he is not what you imagine?".

Vergil chuckled:

“I'm still here, Nero. Abigail, don't cry. You will forget me very soon."  
"I do not want!", she angrily stamped her foot and looked at all the adults in the room, one by one, so angry and resentful that Vergil felt uncomfortable for a split second. A tiny thunderstorm in a glass, not otherwise. "Papa! I do not want to!".

Nero sighed.

“I can hardly believe you, Vergil. You know why. But I don't want my daughter to cry if I can prevent it. Stay with us until she falls asleep. This will make it easier for her."

Vergil glanced at the little girl just above his knee, glistening with an angry, wet look. The strands of hair strayed from her braids stood over the top of her head as if electrified. The eyebrows came together above the bridge of the nose and quivered.

"Are you always so demanding?", he asked.

She sniffed noisily.

“That's good,” he added. "It will be useful to you in the future", he squatted down and showed her open palms. “I will not harm you."

Abigail sniffed again and placed the candy in his left hand. It had already melted a little and was soft, but didn’t pose any danger. It looked like an ordinary candy wrapper on top of a chocolate bar without any drop of magic. And the contents will definitely not poison him. He ate much more dangerous things.

Vergil blinked at the iridescent tail of the wrapper.

"Thank you, Abigail. Isn't it your bedtime?".  
"No! After dinner you can still play!", she instantly beamed, wiped away her tears with her sleeve and grabbed Vergil by the free hand, squeezed his fingers in a hot, wet fist, as far as the length of her palm was enough: "Let's go! I'll show you mine and Tom's room!".

He nodded, freed himself and stood up. He dropped the candy into his pocket. Abigail immediately grabbed him by the edge of his coat and pulled him with her.

“Vergil, no demonic stuff at all!", Nero threw after him. "They are still too small!".

Moving a little away from the kitchen along the corridor, Vergil heard Nero's footsteps behind him, but his son headed in the other direction. Apparently, he went to call Kyrie to follow Vergil. He cannot be left alone with the child, even though he promised that he would not harm her. It looks like the truth. But this thought seemed somewhat offensive. Children are not a threat. He wouldn’t have touched them anyway, even if they hadn’t been his flesh and blood. And these ones are even interesting to watch.

“I probably should have promised your father that I would protect you,” Vergil said quietly, glancing at Abigail.  
“My papa is protecting me,” she said. "He is a very good one".  
"And your brother?".  
"Sometimes he pisses me off, but we share one room", and then Abigail sighed just like an adult. "We have to live together".  
"Which of you is older?".  
"I'm older. Only Tom doesn't believe me. He says that the girl cannot command. Well, that's not true! I'm a girl, though!".

Abigail led him to one of the doors, pushed it, and they entered.

The first thing that caught one's eye was a bunk bed, covered with light green linen below and soft violet one above. Next to it was a large dresser with a pair of awkward wooden figurines and an angular millipede of dark wire with a pair of beads for eyes on it. The second half of the room seemed to be half mirrored between each other: near both walls there were on a low desk with a chair, a bookcase and a large chest, apparently with toys.

Abigail ran to the sofa between the chests, pulled Vergil along with her and made him sit there. He took a candy from his pocket and ate it. Suddenly... it felt nice.

"My dad is cool!", boasted Abigail, returning to Vergil with a large album. "Look, he's fighting demons! I did not see by myself, but aunt Nico told me what they were like! She draws great, and Tom too, and I'm still learning, but I will definitely learn to! You will see!".

Vergil didn’t have time to look into the album and check. The door rustled quietly and Tom entered the nursery, and Kyrie looked into the room after him.

“Hello,” Tom greeted politely, walked over to the bed and sat down on the bed on the lower tier, looking at the busy sofa.  
"Are you all right here?", Kyrie asked. "Children, remember, you’ll go sleep in half an hour."  
“It's all right, mom,” Abigail confirmed, not allowing Vergil to answer.

Kyrie shook her head with a smile and spoke so softly that only Vergil heard:

“Looks like this will be our next devil hunter."

As soon as the door closed behind Kyrie, Tom got out of bed, reached under the mattress and pulled out two sticks, lovingly peeled of bark and knots.

"Abby and I have the coolest family in the world!", he proclaimed and went up to Vergil. "If you are really our grandpa, then prove it!".  
"How?", Vergil specified, examining the sticks in a kid's hands.  
"Fight us! You can choose who will be the first!".  
"Abigail?", Vergil looked at the girl.

It was in vain: her eyes sparkled with the same cunning fire.

"Uncle Dante is gone, so you are one against the two of us!".

Vergil shook his head in response.

Even if they don't believe him – well, or they just fool around – they just proved that they are indeed the descendants of Sparda. Nothing else is needed. Plus, there is no use in defeating children.

"You are still children. It won't be fair even if you both attack. You will have to wait until you become adults."  
“Well, papa doesn't want to either,” Abigail pouted, went up to Tom and took one stick from him. She slightly poked him in the side with the short end: "Well then, we'll learn ourselves! Here papa will be surprised!".  
"Nero doesn't teach you how to use a weapon? This is... mournful to hear."  
"What?", Abigail was surprised.  
“I'm sorry,” Vergil explained.  
"Can you? Teach us, please, teach!", Tom asked.  
"Half an hour is not enough. Plus, I promised I wouldn’t harm my son's children."

Abigail poked Tom softly in the back as Vergil spoke. With a gasp, the boy turned around and waved his stick at her. With a squeal, Abigail jumped up on the wooden chest and lunged with her own, beating off the opposite one.

It was strangely cozy to watch them. And Nero's house no longer seemed so infinitely alien. Vergil chuckled to himself and opened the album Abigail had brought.

Interesting. In some places, demons appeared really well-recognized. And in some places, Nico herself probably helped. Looks like her notes from the van...

Meanwhile, the twins galloped around the room, fooling around and having fun, until one of the sticks whizzed dangerously close to Vergil. Without hesitation, he covered himself with his forearm and mechanically made a counterattack with the edge of his palm. A fragment of a stick flew right through the window, so that the glass rattled – but held out.

The children gaped at him extremely amazed, and it brought him to his senses.

“Don't forget to keep an eye on your surroundings,” Vergil raised his head slightly, not closing the album on his lap. “Another time it might not be me, but a demon."  
"Sorry, I didn't want to!", Abigail squeaked and hid the stub of a stick behind her back.  
"Continue if you want", Vergil shrugged his shoulders and again began to turn over the pages smeared with watercolors.

The children collided with sticks a couple more times, but somehow sluggishly, without the same enthusiasm.

"I'm tired! Don't meddle with me,” Abigail sighed and threw back her broken stick, and the next second she was hit on the top of her head and with a yell she rushed at her brother.

Like that Nero found them: both lying on the carpet in the middle of the nursery. Vergil looked up, trying to figure out what Nero was about to say. Nothing came to mind, but it wasn’t scary: now he will find out.

"Are they all safe?", asked Nero, going up to the children.

Hearing his voice, they stopped fussing and at the same time looked up, but didn’t let go of each other's clothes and hair.

"Tom beat me!".  
"She doesn't want to play!".  
“Well, if only you were ashamed in the presence of grandfather,” Nero chided them. "Well, get up. Go to wash yourself and go sleep."  
“Grandpa gave us permission,” Abigail replied, wiping her nose with a drop of blood under her nostrils. "And it's too early to sleep!".  
“I don’t doubt him,” Nero replied without turning around. “If you were older, he would have fought with you himself."  
"He said the same."  
"Really? Come on, come on. Quickly to the bathroom. See, we are waiting for you."

The children ran out of the nursery in a race, and Nero turned to Vergil.

"Things are good?".  
"Yes."  
"And what do you think about all this?.. Mmm... About children."  
"They remind me of the distant past."  
"You two also fought so often?".  
"Yes. And we were happy too. Once upon a time."

Nero swallowed, cleared his throat, scratched the back of his head.

"Got it."

They didn’t have a chance to be silent for long. Soon the children returned, shaggy and ruddy, but definitely washed. Pushing each other, they pulled the pajamas out of the dresser and changed as quickly as five-year-olds only can. Nero walked over to Abigail and helped her loose her pigtails.

Finally, the twins lay back on their beds.

"Papa, will grandpa come back yet?", Abigail asked, looking up.  
"Let's ask, I don't know," and Nero turned around: "What do you say, Vergil? Children, as you can see, want to. I am not mind too, if you promise not to let them beat each other. We'll discuss the rest tomorrow."  
"Kyrie doesn't mind too?", Vergil specified.  
"Now it seems to me that she was always right," Nero shrugged. “And it wouldn't be fair on my part. We are whatever we are, but a family. And I hope it stays that way."

Vergil nodded.

"Then I'll come again."  
"Will grandpa stay? Yay!".

Abigail dangled her hand from the top bunk of the bed, and Tom clapped his palm heartily.

"Papa, can we go to kindergarten tomorrow?", he asked.  
"What for?".  
"You're dumb or something! Of course, so that everyone knows that we also have a grandpa...", Abigail yawned and covered her head with a blanket, hanging her leg out from under it, but immediately hid it and even tucked the blanket under it. However, looking closely, one could notice an attentive eye following the father and grandfather from the crack between the sheet and the blanket.

Vergil involuntarily grinned out of the corner of his lips, looking at her in response.

A grandpa? A strange word. It should carry power and wisdom, love and care, but of all of the above, he can only offer so far only the first. But maybe, coming to them again and again, he will learn everything else.

Maybe these children will also have not just a grandpa, but the best one?

For less he is not ready and does not agree.


End file.
